New Beginnings
by pari106
Summary: AU. "Caretaker" redone. Tom, Chakotay, and B'Elanna meet on a Kazon ship.
1. Default Chapter

New Beginnings  
By Pari106  
  
Rated: PG-13 for language unbecoming  
  
Disclaimer: Paramount owns it all - lock, stock, and Bolian. No offense or infringement intended.  
  
Summary: AU. What if the Caretaker had done things a little differently? Chakotay, B'Elanna Torres, and Tom Paris meet aboard a Kazon ship.  
  
Author's Note: This assumes B'Elanna didn't have what the Caretaker was looking for after all.  
  
  
  
New Beginnings  
  
She didn't know which was worse - the stench of death that clung to the cells into which they were thrown, or the stench of filth that clung to their captors.  
  
B'Elanna Torres covered her face with the palms of her hand, trying to block the rancid smells before they could make her nauseous. She'd always hated the Klingon within her, but for once she didn't mind her dual heritage - this was definitely a time when that redundant stomach was coming in handy.  
  
Beside her, B'Elanna's companion wasn't doing so well - he'd already been sick several times now, vomiting into a hole in the dirt floor beside him.  
  
Then she changed her tune. 'Make that, neither one of us is doing so well,' she thought, placing a tender hand to her swollen jaw. They were both covered from chin to shin in bruises, she was certain. Chakotay, her companion and former captain of their Maquis ship, the Liberty, sported a nasty black eye and a face full of bruises so dark you could barely see the tribal tattoo on his left temple. B'Elanna had gotten lucky - she'd only received a split lip, but there was a moment there when things might have changed. She felt a chill race down her spine. The way those...what were they? Kazon. Yes, the way those filthy Kazon bastards had leered at her when they'd first materialized in this hellhole had made their intentions quite clear. Then B'Elanna smiled, remembering the way Chakotay had immediately stepped forward, offering to defend her honor from anyone who questioned it. Poor thing - that was how he'd gotten most of those ugly bruises. Either way, once the Kazon had learned that their half-Klingon prey could defend herself just as well they'd lost interest, throwing her in here with the rest of the men.   
  
And now they waited.  
  
For what, B'Elanna had no idea, but they waited all the same, sitting there in their cramped, dirty cages, sweating and bleeding and cursing whatever perverted deity had flung them in this direction. Around them, members of countless species she'd never even heard of stared at B'Elanna with interest. And B'Elanna, having been gawked at and ostracized for being different her entire life, glared back, making it clear that she would accept no shit from anyone. Even if that guy in the corner did look awful big and nasty.  
  
Chakotay laughed, the sound turning into a little moan as his tortured face protested to the movement. "Down, B'Elanna," he teased, wiping a trickle of blood from his nose. "We've made enough friends here already."  
  
B'Elanna smiled - a gesture that fell somewhere between a grin and a snarl.  
  
"Don't worry, Chakotay. Just try introducing those Kazon guys to their spirit guides. Perhaps they'll find themselves and realize the errors of their ways." Chakotay grinned at the gentle ribbing...but not for long, because then their guards had returned - and the last thing either of them saw before darkness were the butts of the Kazon's large rifles.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It took exactly three slaps to wake Chakotay up. By the fourth, he was raging against the ropes that tied him to his chair and opening tired, aching eyes to glare at the Kazon standing over him.  
  
Across from him, he could see B'Elanna, still unconscious, slumped over in her chair as another Kazon guard repeatedly struck her. She had a deep gash just above her right temple and was bleeding heavily.  
  
"Hey! Keep your fucking hands off of her!" he yelled, but the guard beside him suddenly silenced him with a shocking blow.  
  
"Silence!" he snarled, turning to his partner. "What did that...Bolian say these pitiful creatures were called?"  
  
The Kazon leered over at Chakotay, watching the fire in the man's dark eyes as he struck B'Elanna again. She stirred, slightly.  
  
"Humans," the Kazon replied, slurring the word as though it were an insult.  
  
Jaugh laughed. 'Humans'. Even the name of their species sounded weak and inferior.  
  
"Listen, *Human*," he commanded Chakotay. "I am Jaugh of the Kazon Ogla, Commander of this vessel. You and your...companion, here, have been given to us by the Caretaker. Apparently he finds you as worthless as I do. If you behave, you will survive and make a good slave for one of our camps on Ocampa. If not..."  
  
Jaugh backhanded Chakotay, then sent a punishing blow to his midsection, leaving the large man breathless and leaning heavily into his restraints.   
  
Then the Kazon turned to his companion.  
  
"Untie them, then help Kavin bring in the other one when they're done with him." The man complied, and Chakotay and B'Elanna were left lying in the center of their new, solitary cell, alone.  
  
"Chakotay! Chakotay, are you alright?" B'Elanna crawled over to where her friend lay, face-down, on the ground, but he was already trying to sit up as she approached.  
  
"Yeah, I think so." He held a hand to his head. Suddenly, everything seemed to be spinning...  
  
Then they lost their chance to say anything else as their guards were returning once again.  
  
Chakotay took B'Elanna's hand, pulling her close to him and preparing for whatever new assault their captors planned to attempt. His posturing seemed to be for nothing, however, as the two Kazon who entered their cell came not to fight...but to deliver a new prisoner. They drug the man in by his arms, his whole body hanging limp, his legs scraping against the floor as they went. As Chakotay and B'Elanna watched, they dropped the man in the corner of the cell, causing B'Elanna to gasp on their way out when she saw their clothes and the man's blood that covered them.  
  
The two of them hurried over to the unmoving form, not knowing what to expect. All they could see was matted blonde hair and a Starfleet uniform.  
  
'Starfleet!' Chakotay felt a spurt of surprise as they knelt at the man's side. There were Starfleet officers *here* in this place? Humans besides themselves? The man's uniform was badly torn and dirty and spotted with blood, but Chakotay could still see the chest rising and falling as the man breathed. He was still alive.  
  
Without a word, he and B'Elanna turned the man over, and B'Elanna gasped as she saw the condition of the man's face, which was worse than Chakotay's. Apparently, whoever this man was, he'd given their Kazon captors more trouble than they'd liked. It looked as though they'd stopped just short of beating the man to death.  
  
"Here, help me get him onto that cot over there," Chakotay ordered, and with a little effort the two of them managed to move the prone figure to a slightly less-filthy surface than the cell's dirt floor.  
  
Quickly, Chakotay began running his hands over the man's body, feeling for broken bones and internal bleeding. He wasn't a doctor - and without equipment he doubted he'd be much help even if he was, but he'd had some first aid training and he figured it couldn't hurt to know how bad off their new companion really was.  
  
In a moment, Chakotay breathed a sigh of relief. "I feel a couple of broken ribs; looks like they pulled his shoulder out of socket, too. There isn't any internal bleeding, though...I think."  
  
"What's wrong with his hands?"  
  
Chakotay looked down and the man's hands, which B'Elanna were holding in her own. He cursed under his breath and examined one closer.  
  
"It looks like they broke all his fingers."  
  
B'Elanna was immediately enraged, and she bared her teeth in her fury. "PaTaqs!"  
  
Chakotay nodded, silently agreeing with her colorful Klingon adjective for the Kazon. It didn't matter that this man was Starfleet, and that, if he was here with them in the Delta Quadrant, then he must have been sent to capture them. What mattered was, they'd been brought here against their will - all of them, presumably. This man was human; one of them, and neither Chakotay nor B'Elanna took lightly to seeing those disgusting Kazon use one of their own as a punching bag.   
  
Soon they set to work, removing the man's jacket and turtleneck to tear into strips for bandages. Chakotay bandaged the man's side, then he and B'Elanna moved him into a sitting position, replacing the short-sleeved gray top he'd had on under his turtleneck. Luckily, the Kazon had atleast had the small bit of humanity to bring them some water and they were able to clean the man's wounds and their own.  
  
When they'd done everything they could, B'Elanna and Chakotay sat back, sharing what was left of the water to drink. They did so sparingly, saving some for their companion when he awaked.  
  
"Who do you think he is?" B'Elanna suddenly asked. Her eyes were on their mysterious cellmate.  
  
Chakotay shrugged. "I don't know. He didn't have any pips on his collar. But then again, he didn't have a communicator, either."  
  
B'Elanna snorted. "That says a lot. They stripped us of everything except the clothes on our backs. They probably did the same to him."  
  
Chakotay nodded, frowning in concentration. "I can't help but get the feeling I've seen him somewhere before."  
  
B'Elanna raised an eyebrow. "With that face? I was hoping the Kazon had done that to him."  
  
Chakotay sent her a chastising look. "You know what I mean." Then he shrugged again. "I don't know - maybe I'm imagining things."  
  
B'Elanna didn't comment. She looked at the man again, disturbed to find she was getting the same feeling. She shook her head.  
  
"Maybe we've been hit upside the head by one too many Kazon."  
  
Chakotay chuckled.  
  
"Maybe so."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Lost in the surrealistic world of nightmares and dreams, Tom Paris struggled with an army of attackers - Starfleet, Maquis, Andorian, Cardassian, Kazon. He relived the first few moments before unconsciousness claimed him again and again - and when that no longer served to adequately torment him, he found himself back in New Zealand or amidst a nasty bar brawl on some back alley in Marseilles. For a while he lay bleeding on some Cardassian starship and then he was aboard a Federation shuttlecraft barreling towards a moon called Caldik Prime. And all the way throughout, he thrashed in his sleep, cussing in at least twelve different languages that B'Elanna could recognize - the others were unfamiliar to her.  
  
The half-Klingon raised an eyebrow at one particularly colorful term the man had used in her native tongue. 'I lived on Quo'Nos a full year as a child and even *I've* never heard that one.' B'Elanna had volunteered to watch over their self-appointed charge while Chakotay slept, since he had - after all - obtained the worst of the injuries out of the two and needed rest more desperately. But their patient had obviously undergone an ordeal worse than even they had imagined - he thrashed about as though he were fighting hell itself, and soon B'Elanna had to wake her companion and have him help her hold the man down before he ended up hurting himself worse than he already was.  
  
"What should we do?"  
  
"I don't know, but we've got to do something fast. He's starting to draw attention from the guards."  
  
"I've tried everything short of slugging him one. Quite frankly, I don't think he could take anymore blows to the head without suffering brain damage."  
  
"Well, he doesn't have a concussion. Just keep calling out to him. Maybe we can get him to wake up slowly..."  
  
Meanwhile, Tom was back with the Kazon once again, watching as they broke his fingers one by one. Only now, the Kazon looked more like those damned Cardies. Gul Tulcadt leered over him as his officers cut the fingers from Tom's hands one after the other as the young pilot begged and pleaded. 'God, Oh God, no, not my fingers...they can't take my fingers!'  
  
Tom struck out at his attacker, swinging his fist with all his might...and coming sharply into contact with Chakotay's face.  
  
Tom frowned when he heard a voice yell "Chakotay!" There weren't any women on this ship...and when did Gul Tulcadt change his name?  
  
"Or maybe not," Chakotay drawled. Damn. He hadn't thought there was a place left on his face that wasn't aching...and now there really wasn't. 'Starfleet has one hell of a right hook,' he thought.  
  
B'Elanna took a look at Chakotay, then rushed back over to the man lying on the cot. He was slowly, but surely, trying to open his swollen eyes. And as consciousness returned, B'Elanna could almost feel the panic welling in him when he was unsuccessful in doing so.  
  
"Shhh, shhh, it's okay." She felt him tense, but she didn't remove her hand from his shoulder. "It's okay - you're with friends now."  
  
"Why...what happened to my eyes?"  
  
For the first time, B'Elanna heard the man speak...and was surprised to feel a resulting spark of sexual recognition. B'Elanna shook her head, frowning. The man was beaten and bloodied, his face hidden behind bandages, his voice low and hoarse, but something about him...something in his tone when he spoke, in his presence, even when he was unconscious, somehow seemed to tug at her...  
  
B'Elanna shrugged the strange, surprising feelings away. 'You really *have* been hit on the head one too many times, Torres.'  
  
Finally, she turned back to her Starfleet cellmate. "They're bandaged," she explained. "You took a pretty bad beating. We're being held by some people called the Kazon. They said the Caretaker sent us here. Do you remember?"  
  
The man didn't answer. He brought one hand to his masked face, wincing at the movement. B'Elanna winced, too, at the sight of his bandaged, broken fingers.  
  
"I'm Chakotay. This is B'Elanna Torres. We're from a Maquis ship the Caretaker brought here to the Delta Quadrant."  
  
B'Elanna was dismayed to realize she'd forgotten all about Chakotay being there with them in the cell. She felt the man before her tense, as well, and tried to soothe him.  
  
"It's okay. We know you're Starfleet. The Kazon took your communicator and your pips, though. It doesn't matter if you came here to find us. I think the Kazon made that issue pretty well mute, don't you."  
  
Then Chakotay smiled, his tone teasing. "Unless, of course, you still plan on bringing us in?"  
  
Their cellmate obviously caught the joke - the sound that came from him was something like a laugh.  
  
"Yeah...consider yourselves captured." Both Chakotay and Torres smiled.  
  
"Do you think you can sit up?" she asked.  
  
Tom hesitated a moment, then nodded, and the others helped him move into a sitting position. He shook his head. Imagine? He was here with the great, noble Chakotay...and for once the man wasn't treating him like scum. Hell, he might very well have saved Tom's life. And what was the woman he said was with him? B''lanna Torres --the engineer on his ship, if Tom remembered correctly from the reports Janeway gave him. Janeway...Tom swallowed, thinking about the one woman who'd ever given a damn about whether or not he rotted in that prison Starfleet had cast him into. And he thought about Harry - Harry Kim, the Voyager's Opps officer, green and naïve and fresh out of the Academy. Had all of them...  
  
"Are the others...the other officers of my ship? Did they..."  
  
B'Elanna interrupted him quickly. "We don't think so. Most of our crew is here, as well, but they've been put in different cells. From what we gathered from the other prisoners here, the Caretaker only sends his somewhat... less than desirable abductees to the Kazon."  
  
"You mean the criminals?" Tom clarified, laughing when he sensed her stiffen at this.  
  
"Hey, I didn't mean anything by it - I'm here, too, aren't I?"  
  
"I think this Caretaker of theirs must slip up every now and then," Chakotay said. "You're here...and one of our officers isn't - a Vulcan named Tuvok."  
  
Tom didn't comment.  
  
"Besides, who is this Caretaker to judge who's right and who's wrong?" Torres asked, still angry at Tom's harmless, but irritating insinuation. "Just because we're not Starfleet, that makes us criminals?"  
  
"B'Elanna..."  
  
"No, Chakotay. Who the hell is this Caretaker? And what the hell gives him the right to turn us over to these PaTaqs?!"  
  
"Maybe he thought he'd teach the Kazon a lesson. I'd certainly hate to have you angry at me."  
  
Tom's comment was nonchalant, and despite herself, B'Elanna found her lips twitching. Chakotay laughed.  
  
"So would I," he agreed, and B'Elanna hit him.  
  
"Ow!"  
  
"So...do you have a name, Starfleet?" she asked, reluctantly letting her anger slip away.   
  
Tom hesitated. What the hell did he say now? These two had been good to him - they deserved the truth. But what would Chakotay do if he found out this was Tom Paris he'd just wasted him time and concern on? Tom Paris - the lying, womanizing, alcoholic mercenary that had led Starfleet right to him? Tom swallowed. What would B'Elanna do? Janeway's file said she was half-Klingon - Tom could certainly do without that sort of enemy right now. But what would he tell them? For some reason, the thought of lying to them was distasteful to Tom - and that made him laugh. Since when did lying bother Tom Paris? He'd been doing it all his life - why stop now? But, for some reason, he did. He just sat there and didn't respond.  
  
Chakotay raised a brow. "What? Afraid to give yourself away? Hate to break it to you, but if Starfleet sent you here to spy on us..." He fingered the top of Tom's uniform. "..they kind of blew the deal by sending you in uniform."  
  
"As if spying on us now would do you any good. It'd take you seventy-five years to get your reports back to headquarters," Torres mumbled.  
  
Tom remained silent, and Chakotay shrugged.  
  
"Whatever. Play it your way."  
  
"Chakotay..."  
  
"What are we gonna do, beat it out of him?" Chakotay asked, and despite the tension that had suddenly entered the atmosphere, everyone smiled.  
  
Then Tom winced. Even moving his lips hurt. He groaned.  
  
"You might be successful," he admitted. "I don't think there's a part of my body that doesn't ache, and if you can find it...I'll tell you anything you want to know."  
  
Chakotay smiled. "I'll have to keep that in mind."  
  
  
  
  
During their time with the Kazon time passed - B'Elanna was certain it did. However, there was little to distinguish one day from the next. They never left their cell, and guards came only to deliver them food or to take one of them away. So far, they'd taken Chakotay twice and herself once. She'd been lucky yet again - they'd slapped her around a little, nothing more. But both Starfleet and Chakotay had railed against having her taken until both men had ended up in the 'interrogation' room once again. Tom came back spitting teeth, and they'd broken one of Chakotay's legs. Through it all, the Kazon claimed to be taking them to a mining camp to work, but Torres doubted they'd be much good in a mine between Chakotay's one good leg and Starfleet's mangled hands.  
  
Apparently, the Kazon had decided that their captives were hardly worth the energy, so they'd taken to leaving the cells lighted for only an hour or two a day. And so, Chakotay, B'Elanna, and Starfleet were left, alone and in the dark, with nothing to do for days at a time. The steady sound of the engines told them that the ship hadn't stopped, but other than that, the outside world ceased to effect the three cellmates. Mostly, they used this time to heal...and to talk.  
  
They talked a lot. About everything. Sometimes they argued - more for the purpose of having something to do than anything else. At first, they'd avoided the really controversial issues, but as they became familiar with one another, they began to actually seek out the touchy subjects; to try and break the monotony of captivity. At first, B'Elanna was certain the battle lines would be clearly drawn by their political affiliations. Starfleet vs. Maquis - the endless dispute. But, again, as time wore on, they began to realize that none of them were as easily categorized as they might have thought. There were times when it was every man - or woman - for themselves. And there were also times when B'Elanna found herself on the losing end of an argument with both her male companions, who seemed to enjoy baiting her into a lopsided debate. Sometimes --a lot of times, she admitted - B'Elanna found herself sitting there in the dark, listening to the man they only called 'Starfleet' speak, amazed. It was like he was reading her mind; they seemed to have so much in common. She would just sit there, listening to him, falling in love a little more every day and fighting it the whole time. And as she listened, she learned a lot about him...though, sometimes, she felt as though she weren't really learning anything at all. There was still something very reserved about Starfleet - something he was holding back. She didn't know what was going on in his head; what it was he wasn't saying. She only knew that she wasn't buying that whole I-don't-trust-Maquis bit anymore than Chakotay was. Perhaps he just didn't like opening up. Perhaps he'd had a rough time once and now kept himself at a distance as a general rule? That made sense. It also explained a lot. And B'Elanna was sure it had something to do with the Cardassians. He hadn't said as much, but there was something in his voice when he spoke of the war; something she'd never heard in a 'fleeter's voice before. There was something in his body language whenever she or Chakotay mentioned the Cardies. There was even something different about his silence during such discussions.  
  
And then there were the nightmares.  
  
The man had a nightmare practically every time he closed his eyes. She had no idea how he'd made it past Federation psych tests. And from the way he thrashed about in his sleep, the things he said, B'Elanna didn't think it was Kazon he was fighting in his dreams. Neither she nor Chakotay ever mentioned it. Perhaps because they wanted to respect their new friend's privacy, or perhaps because they simply didn't want to know what Starfleet would say if they did. Perhaps both.  
  
And Starfleet wasn't the only one she was learning about - there was a lot she hadn't known about Chakotay either. Sure they'd been together a long time - but they'd been fighting a war, after all. There wasn't much time in the middle of the war to just sit down and talk. There wasn't time for anything.  
  
'Well, there's certainly plenty of time to talk now,' B'Elanna thought.  
  
Then one day she and Starfleet were having another of their infamous arguments. This one was about soup or something equally ridiculous. Chakotay was meditating. Torres had told Starfleet how she'd tried to kill her spirit guide and Chakotay had tried to get Starfleet in touch with his own. And so, she and Starfleet were arguing and suddenly Chakotay came out of his trance and interrupted the debate.  
  
"I think I have the answer," he said.  
  
Chakotay's companions quieted and B'Elanna tried not to laugh at the face the other man must have been making underneath his bandages. The Maquis captain had always gotten philosophical after a vision quest.  
  
"The answer to what?" she asked since Starfleet wasn't responding.  
  
"The answer to why we're here. The reason the Caretaker sent us to the Kazon and not the others."  
  
"Pray tell." B'Elanna smiled.  
  
But then B'Elanna felt Starfleet tense and sobered. If *he* was taking Chakotay seriously than something was definitely up.  
  
"Anger."  
  
"Like we did anything to anger him!"  
  
"No. I don't mean the Caretaker's anger. Our anger. I think the Caretaker sensed anger in each of us - telepathically or empathically somehow. He separated us from the others because of that anger."  
  
The three of them were silent a moment, and B'Elanna was thinking that he might have a point. It would certainly explain why the Vulcan, Tuvok, hadn't been sent with them. Chakotay's theory made sense; there was no way to prove it, but it did make sense.  
  
Then Starfleet laughed. It wasn't a particularly pleasant laugh, B'Elanna noticed. It sounded cynical and just a bit...defensive?   
  
"You're saying this Caretaker looked deep into our souls and saw what bad, angry people we were and decided to punish us for that?"  
  
Chakotay shifted. Starfleet always seemed to be able to put him on the defensive; to push his buttons. But after spending weeks talking with the man, Chakotay had learned not to take the young officer's attitude personally.   
  
"I'm saying that we each had a lot of anger in us. I was angry at Starfleet..."  
  
"Was?" Starfleet interrupted, but Chakotay continued.  
  
"Torres was angry at the world, in general. You're angry at your father..." Starfleet turned away, despite the fact that the others couldn't see his face anyhow.  
  
"I think that if the Caretaker could send us 70,000 light-years across space than I'm sure he could recognize anger when he saw it, and he judged his own conclusions based on that."  
  
"His conclusions being that we deserved to rot in this hellhole just because we were angry?"  
  
That was from B'Elanna. Chakotay sighed.  
  
"I'm afraid so. I know it doesn't make much sense to us..."  
  
"You're damned right it doesn't!" Tom was suddenly angry. What the hell was wrong with Chakotay? Why couldn't he just let things be? It didn't matter why they were here, or how. Chances were, they were going to die here. Why make that prospect any more gruesome by trying to seek out the warped purpose behind it? And he said as much to Chakotay and B'Elanna.  
  
But Chakotay was angry, too. What the hell was wrong with Starfleet? He was so damned moody. Why did any little thing seem to set him off?   
  
"Why?" he laughed. "You're Starfleet, Starfleet. You tell us. You people are always setting out to seek new worlds...all that bullshit. The 'why's have always been your biggest priority - even bigger than that of protecting lives or ending wars."  
  
From her seat on one of the cell's benches, B'Elanna stiffened. Shit! They were going to get into it again.  
  
But, to her surprise, Starfleet didn't say anything. She thought Chakotay would back off, too, but the older man was tired of retreating. She heard him rise.  
  
"But you don't want to talk about that, do you Starfleet? For an officer of the Federation, you sure as hell don't like to be reminded, do you?"  
  
Tom's fists clenched.   
  
"Just shut up, Chakotay. You don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"So tell me!"  
  
Somehow this discussion had gone from one thing to something else entirely.  
  
"You're a Starfleet officer, but you won't even say what department you're in. You wear that uniform, but you won't even tell us your rank. What the hell is the problem? Why is it you can talk about how you're daddy used to slap you and your mom around when you were a kid, but you can't mention the war with Carda..."  
  
And that's as far as Chakotay got. Later, he admitted to himself that mentioning the man's family was out of line; a bad move. But at the moment, he never saw it coming. The next thing he knew, Starfleet's fist was connecting with his chin and he was down on the ground.  
  
"I said to shut the fuck up!"  
  
In a movement, Torres was at Chakotay's side, searching for him in the dark.  
  
"Damn it, Starfleet, calm down!"  
  
"Then back off! Both of you..." Tom sighed, running a hand over what would have been his face if it weren't still bandaged.  
  
"Christ! It's always the same with you Maquis! Starfleet did this...Starfleet didn't do that. Get over it! You had some bad experiences with the Cardies? Well, too damned bad! Have you ever heard of a good experience with a Cardassian? You think that wearing this uniform means I'm happy about how the war is turning out? Hell no! But calling yourself Maquis and blowing things up doesn't make things any better... I should know!"  
  
Chakotay and B'Elanna were stunned by the intensity of the man's outrage. It was probably the single longest, most passionate statement they'd ever heard him make. Chakotay frowned.  
  
"What do you mean, you should know?"  
  
But Starfleet was claming up again, and B'Elanna laughed. "Uh-uh. Don't just throw all that out there and then stop. What are you talking about, Starfleet? What do you know about Cardassians?" She meant to anger him into talking again, and she could hear the struggle to retain control in his voice.  
  
"I don't want to talk about it," Tom said, slowly. And as moments passed, he didn't. The silence seemed to stretch out indefinitely.  
  
Finally, B'Elanna frowned, reaching for the canteen lying near Chakotay's bench. She ripped a small piece of fabric off of her already tattered clothing, wet it, and helped Chakotay with his newly re-split lip.  
  
'Fine, let the bastard stew in silence,' she thought.  
  
And then he began to talk.  
  
  
  
  
Tom mentally cussed himself backwards and front. Who the hell did he think he was fooling? Hiding behind anonymity all this time as if that were a long-term possibility? Eventually the swelling and the abrasions to his face would have to heal - eventually he would have to take the bandages off. What happened if Chakotay recognized him then? Hell, they were already growing suspicious. This was just stupid.  
  
Still, Tom couldn't regret keeping his silence these last few weeks. No doubt it would only make him look even more like a bastard when the truth did finally come out, but it had been worth it. For the first time in his life, he could talk to someone - just talk, without having to cover his ass. Well, at least without having to cover too much. For the first time in his life, he wasn't being admired or despised for one reason alone: his name. For once, he felt accepted - even if he had to omit a few things about himself to do it.  
  
Tom cussed, rubbing the knuckles he'd used to punch Chakotay. He shouldn't have hit the man. Not just because he regretted getting violent with the man - he did. But also because it hurt like hell. Men with broken fingers shouldn't throw punches. Over time, the pain in his hands had dulled into a numbed ache - now it flared to life.   
  
Tom cussed again. 'Be done with it already, Tommy. Just tell 'em your name and get it over with. What do you care?'  
  
That was right - what did he care? This was Chakotay, after all. Was he actually worried about impressing a man like Chakotay? That sanctimonious asshole?  
  
Tom sighed. Yes, he *was* actually worried about impressing Chakotay. When they'd met, years ago, in some bar in Marseilles, Tom had disliked the guy instantly. Not because he was a bad sort, really. But he was just so sure of himself; so certain in his convictions. So much like his father. The two of them had clashed throughout Tom's entire brief yet illustrious career with the Maquis. Then when Tom was caught, he'd blamed Chakotay for it. Blamed him a whole year into his incarceration. Prison was hell for a man with Tom's reputation - it had been a never-ending succession of challenges and conflicts. And Tom had blamed it all on the large Indian sitting with him in this cell.   
  
But being here with the Kazon had changed Tom. It had taught him a lot about the other man; a lot about the man's nature, about why he did what he did and believed what he believed. Hell, Tom liked the guy. Crazy, unexpected as it way...he actually liked him. He was moral and compassionate and enlightened...and damned if he wasn't a thing like Owen Paris. And as for B'Elanna...  
  
Tom winced as a pain hit somewhere other than his hand.  
  
Well, he didn't even want to think about B'Elanna. Being here all this time with her, listening to her talk, hearing the odd, endearing mix of strength and vulnerability in her character...it was too much for Tom. Too enticing. B'Elanna made him want to think about fate and second chances and all that other bullshit he hadn't thought about twice since Caldik Prime. She made him want to hope...and hope wasn't a luxury Tom could afford.  
  
'That's right, Tommy. You don't stand a chance in hell with her - or with Chakotay. Once they find out who you are, they'll just as soon want to shoot you as look at you. They don't really like you. They're just like everybody else. So what do you care? Huh? What do you care?'  
  
He didn't care. Tom clenched his jaw in determination. He didn't give a shit whether or not Chakotay or B'Elanna liked him or not. And he wasn't going to play the fool any longer - he was going to tell them his name, let them take their shots, and be done with it. He wasn't going to bare his soul any longer; wasn't going to tell them the kind of things he'd never told anybody, much less his self-declared enemies. Wasn't going to talk about the Cardassians...  
  
And so, Tom was the most surprised out of all three of them when he did exactly that...  
  
  
  
  
At first Chakotay wasn't sure he was hearing correctly. Starfleet was talking so low, almost as if he were talking to himself. He didn't announce his intentions, didn't stop to give the others a chance to realize what he was doing - he just started talking.  
  
He talked...and they listened to every word.  
  
Starfleet told him the whole story - about how he'd left Starfleet and, soon after, left Earth. About how the Cardassians had been waiting for him. He didn't know how long they'd kept him, only that he was the only one on the shuttle to survive. Then they'd left him to die on some moon. He would have, too, Starfleet said, if he hadn't been found by the moon's natives.  
  
"I should have known they'd come for me," he was saying. "Hell, maybe I did. I wasn't exactly fond of my life at that point...but then...I'd seen what it did to my father when those bastards captured him. I imagined what he must have went through. But I never actually got to see it...until then..."  
  
Beside him, Chakotay thought B'Elanna had started to cry. Maybe Starfleet was crying, too, he didn't know. Didn't want to know. He felt sick, himself. The inhumanity of the Cardassians was legendary - Chakotay had seen it up close in the people who'd survived such ordeals. He'd never actually undergone one himself, however. And at first, Starfleet allowed him to continue misunderstanding the difference between the two; he kept his story short and vague. But as he got caught up in the narrative, he began to let his guards down, and Chakotay began to learn much more about being held by the Cardassians than he had ever desired.   
  
It took a few moments for Chakotay to realize that Starfleet had stopped talking. The three of them just sat there, silent, as Starfleet's words settled uneasily in their minds.  
  
What did you say to something like that? What could you possibly say to someone who has revealed such things to you? Somehow, 'thanks for sharing' didn't quite seem to cut it. So Chakotay and B'Elanna said nothing.  
  
Then there wasn't a chance to say anything more on the subject because all hell broke loose.  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. New Beginnings, partII

New Beginnings, part II  
By Pari106  
  
Disclaimer: Paramount owns them, yadda, yadda, yadda (you get the idea).  
  
Rated: PG-13 (I guess) for a little naughty language.  
  
  
New Beginnings, part II  
  
For a moment, Tom was lost in the memories he'd just shared with his cellmates. After that moment had passed, reality hit, and he reeled with disbelief. Did he just do that? Did he actually say the things he thought he did?  
  
Apparently he did - the silence in the room was thick and uneasy. Tom groaned. It wasn't hard to shrug off the emotions remembering stirred up, but Tom tried. It hadn't been his intention to burden Chakotay or B'Elanna with the demons of his past. He wasn't even sure if he'd have been tempted to, had they not been here with those filthy Kazon. This cell, the beatings - it was all just too reminiscent for him of another time, another place. If he were still on Voyager he might not be as disturbed.  
  
'But you're not on Voyager, buddy boy, so suck it up,' he ordered.  
  
He opened his mouth to say something, anything to break the tension that had filled the air.  
  
And then all hell broke loose.  
  
Tom was slightly more forewarned than the others. They knew something was wrong when the lights came on - a full eight hours ahead of time - and then flickered, going dead again. Then the whole world seemed to tumble as the ship was obviously hit; the sounds of battle faintly distinguishable in the background. Tom hadn't needed all this to alert him to the fact that their hosts had changed coarse, however. He was a pilot - he could *feel* any move a ship made the second it was getting ready to do it.  
  
Therefore, he was able to yell, "Hold on!", before the ship actually started to shake, giving his cellmates time - just barely - to grab onto the bench bolted nearby.   
  
And then everything was silent once again... until the sound of phaser-fire was suddenly replaced with another.  
  
The three listened carefully. "What the hell is that?" asked B'Elanna. The answer came to all of them simultaneously.  
  
"A Transporter."  
  
Tom walked over to the cell door, concentrating on the humming sound in the distance. It was growing nearer.  
  
"It sounds like someone's performing a mass beam-out. I can hear it getting closer, cell by cell."  
  
His companions joined him. Hope began to dawn, irresistibly. "Do you think that maybe Voyager..." She didn't even dare speak it aloud, but Chakotay nodded anyhow.  
  
"I just hope it's them and not the Caretaker again."  
  
Tom shook his head, B'Elanna's anxious optimism catching. "No, that's not the Caretaker's beam. It sounds more like Voyager's." He hoped. He hoped his pain-dazed mind wasn't simply imagining things.  
  
They listened to the sound of mass transport growing nearer and nearer their cell, which was at the last row of cells in the brig, they knew. It grew nearer and nearer...  
  
"Maybe we might not be seeing those Kazon mining camps, after all," Chakotay said.  
  
...and then the beam-outs stopped.  
  
Chakotay, B'Elanna, and Tom waited and waited...and nothing. And then the sounds of battle resumed. The three cellmates barely breathed, and amongst it all the sound of hope dwindling eclipsed the sound of phaser-fire that echoed all around them.  
  
"Or maybe not," Chakotay whispered.  
  
  
  
  
On board the U.S.S. Voyager, Captain Kathryn Janeway clung to the railing around the command center of the bridge. Commander Tuvok had replaced the lieutenant at Tactical who had been knocked unconscious by the last hit. Ensign Harry Kim stuck to his post at Opps, and Lieutenant Hamilton was at the conn, desperately trying to keep the ship out of the Kazon's line of fire.  
  
"Report!" Janeway called over the din of battle.  
  
"Shields holding at sixty percent, Captain. Damage on decks ten and eleven; minor casualties. The Kazon have managed to reestablish their shields and weapons systems."   
  
Janeway's voice held a bit of wry amusement. "I've noticed, Mr. Kim," she drawled as yet another blast rocked the ship.  
  
"Mr. Tuvok, how many did we get?"  
  
The Commander looked up from his console. "Almost all missing members of the crews have been recovered, Captain, with the exception of three persons located in the ship's last cell block. Readings there show three humanoid life signs - two human and one human with Klingon DNA."  
  
Janeway smiled. That would be them, then - Captain Chakotay and his engineer, B'Elanna Torres. And Tom Paris?  
  
"Can we get those Kazon shields down again?"  
  
Tuvok cocked his head to the side. Calculating odds, no doubt.  
  
"Perhaps. They will no doubt be prepared for our previous tactics. We may be able to disable their shields, but for how long I cannot say. We may only have time for a single beam-out."  
  
Janeway swore. That wouldn't do. She was almost compelled to ask 'Are you sure?', but remembered who she was talking to. Tuvok is Vulcan, after all - they're always sure. The Commander raised an eyebrow, as if sensing - and simultaneously confirming - her thoughts.  
  
The Captain sighed. "Very well, then. Assemble a team, Commander. We'll send you over, you get our people out of there. Swipe a Kazon shuttle if you need to. We'll be waiting."  
  
Tuvok nodded, comming a couple of security officers to join him in Transporter Room One. As he strode to the turbolift, Harry stepped out from behind his console, as well.  
  
"Captain?"  
  
Janeway met the nervous Ensign with a raised brow.  
  
"Yes, Mr. Kim?"  
  
"Permission to join the away team, Captain."  
  
Janeway just looked at him a moment, curious. Then she recalled that Harry had been the one to bring attention to Paris' absence in the first place. Come to think of it, she'd seen the two together several times since they'd boarded the ship. 'Tom Paris making friends with a green, young ensign - imagine that.'  
  
The Captain nodded.   
  
"Very well, Mr. Kim. Join Tuvok in Transporter Room One. And take a medkit - they might need it."  
  
Kim grinned, a huge, infectious type grin, and Janeway grinned back.  
  
"Yes, ma'am," he said, striding off.  
  
Janeway shook her head, still smiling. She had a good crew, and -hopefully- by the time the away team got back, it would be a bigger crew. Bigger by at least three.  
  
Janeway sat down in the Captain's seat, and waited.  
  
  
  
  
  
After several moments of waiting, it became apparent that whatever fate had befallen their comrades on the ship had overlooked Chakotay, B'Elanna, and Tom.  
  
Finally, Tom walked over and slouched onto one of the benches.   
  
B'Elanna was enraged. She flung herself at the door, teeth bared.  
  
"You Kazon bastards! What the hell did you do with the others?"  
  
Chakotay tried to calm her down, to keep her from attacking the door and hurting herself.  
  
"Shhh. B'Elanna, stop! We don't know that it wasn't Voyager rescuing people off the ship."  
  
"Yeah, like Voyager would go to battle for a bunch of Maquis. They didn't before! And if it was Voyager, then why are we still here?"  
  
"Maybe they left us behind."  
  
That came from Starfleet, and both Chakotay and B'Elanna whirled to look at him.  
  
"Why would you say that? They're your crew."  
  
"What is the deal with you, anyway, Starfleet?"  
  
Tom didn't say anything - and a moment later he didn't think he'd have to. Suddenly, the door to the cell blew outwards. There was a din of phaser-fire and screams, then the three watched through the smoke and fire as four people entered.  
  
Chakotay's first impulse was to rush the group. If the Kazon had come for them, than they'd get a fight before they got them. But B'Elanna stopped him.  
  
"Wait! Chakotay, it's Tuvok!"  
  
"Tuvok!"  
  
By now their visitors had joined them on the other side of the cell and Chakotay could see them clearly - three humans...and their Vulcan science officer. B'Elanna scrambled to her feet, helping Chakotay to rise, as well.  
  
"Tuvok, how did you..."  
  
But then, Chakotay noticed something else. The three men and woman that stood before him were all dressed in Starfleet uniform - even Tuvok. B'Elanna made the same realization at the same time. She barely noticed as one of the officers hurried over to Starfleet, medkit in hand. At first, she thought, 'Tuvok must have joined Voyager's crew.' But then she saw the pips on his collar - three of them, signifying the rank of Commander. Why would a Starfleet captain make a Maquis science officer her first officer?  
  
"You were one of them," Chakotay said, quietly, anger burning but contained. "All this time, you were spying for Starfleet. What were you going to do, Tuvok? Deliver us into their waiting hands?"  
  
Two of Tuvok's officers backed out of the cell at his order, securing the corridor outside.  
  
"I hardly think that now is the appropriate time for such a discussion," Tuvok said, but Chakotay stilled him with a hand on his arm. The message was clear: he wasn't going anywhere until he got an answer.  
  
Tuvok raised an eyebrow in traditional Vulcan form. "Very well. I must regretfully inform you that, yes, I was working undercover for Starfleet. I was Captain Janeway's Tactical officer. My mission was to infiltrate your ship, collect information on your activities, and then to, as you said, "deliver you into their waiting hands", yes."  
  
Chakotay shook his head, his mouth a thin, angry line, but he let the Vulcan go. Then a gasp from B'Elanna drew his attention elsewhere.  
  
  
  
  
As soon as he'd gotten the chance, Harry went to Tom's side. Tom didn't know whether he was happy, or embarrassed.   
  
'Oh, the hell with it,' he thought, and grinned. So he was happy to see the kid - that didn't mean he was going soft.  
  
"Harry," he greeted. "Am I ever glad to see you."  
  
Ensign Kim smiled, but then the smile disappeared, as he grew closer and saw Tom's condition. "Jesus..."  
  
The older man's clothes were dirty and bloodstained, just like the Maquis', and his face and hands were bandaged with strips of cloth. The only way he'd seen Harry approach was through a small slit in the bandages around his eyes.  
  
"Damn, Paris..." Harry didn't notice Tom's quick, nervous glance towards Chakotay and B'Elanna when he used his name. "...what the hell did they do to you?"  
  
Tom attempted something resembling a laugh. He was aiming at nonchalant, but didn't quite make it. "Oh, you know me, Har. I make friends so easily...' Then he winced as the ensign began removing the bandages from his hands.   
  
"Sorry. I've got a medkit. You'll have to get to Sickbay right away, but I can at least take care of the worst now..." Harry paled as the wrappings fell away and he saw Tom's broken fingers. But Tom was getting a little annoyed. He didn't like being fussed over - he'd had so little experience with the situation.  
  
"I know, I know. I'm not gonna win any beauty pageants. Just get on with it, already, or do I have to take that dermal regenerator away from you?"  
  
Harry laughed, shaking his head. He'd forgotten Tom's odd, caustic brand of humor. It was good to get the chance to remember.  
  
"Alright, already. Hold still."  
  
Harry was able to heal the abrasions that covered Tom's face and hands. He reduced all the swelling, and gave Tom something for the pain. He had to work quickly, however - they only had a few moments and then the group needed to head to a cargo bay and get out of there before the Kazon caught on to what they were doing and sent reinforcements for the guards they'd battled outside. Harry told Paris that the rest would have to be taken care of on the ship - he couldn't reset the bones in Tom's hands or perform any of the other more complicated procedures with a medkit.  
  
Meanwhile, Tom was just waiting to see Chakotay and B'Elanna's reactions. Halfway through Harry's administrations he became unnaturally quiet. Still, when he heard B'Elanna gasp, knew that she was looking in his direction, it startled him all the same, and he winced, anticipating the upcoming confrontation.  
  
The others were oblivious that anything was about to happen...until Chakotay saw what B'Elanna saw.  
  
"Paris!"  
  
Chakotay had time for one outraged, disbelieving exclamation...then he was leaping at the other man, furious. He didn't reach Tom, however - Tuvok immediately restrained him. Harry jumped back, eyes wide. B'Elanna just stood there, anger growing within her, as well, but mostly she just looked shocked.  
  
"It was you, Paris? You were on board Voyager?" The last either of them had heard, Tom Paris had been in prison where many said he belonged.  
  
"Mr. Paris was assigned as an observer for Voyager's current mission. He was to help the ship maneuver through the Badlands."  
  
"You mean to help you outmaneuver us! You were going to help them catch us, weren't you Paris?"  
  
Tom managed to muster a little of his usual cocky arrogance. "Yeah, and we all know how well that turned out, don't we, Chakotay?"  
  
"Pa'Taq!" Now B'Elanna was lunging towards him, and Paris tried not to wince at the pain her anger caused him. Only three weeks he'd really known her, and damn but he didn't want to see that look in her eyes. That look she was giving him. Tuvok caught the half-Klingon before she could reach her prey, and Tom knew it was for the best. He didn't think he'd have the heart to fend her off if she'd been allowed to attack him.  
  
"Captain Chakotay, Ms. Torres, I have to ask that you refrain from making any further violent outbursts towards Mr. Paris. Our priority at this time is to get off the Kazon ship and back aboard Voyager."  
  
But even though they stopped struggling in Tuvok's grip, Chakotay was still staring at Paris and B'Elanna was glaring angrily at the floor.  
  
'That bastard!' Chakotay thought. All this time he'd been pouring his heart out - about Starfleet, his ex-wife, the Cardassians, his father - and he'd been doing it in front of *Tom Paris*! Spirits! He'd always detested the man - and now here he was, admitting that he'd sold them out to Starfleet.  
  
"At least the Vulcan was doing his job," he told Paris. "What did you get out of it? Freedom from prison? Latinum? What was your price this time?"  
  
Tom didn't move, didn't respond. Kim looked nervously from one man to the other. As Chakotay spoke, his anger grew once again and his voice began to rise. Once again, Tuvok interceded.  
  
"Captain..."   
  
Chakotay shrugged Tuvok's hand away, and the Commander released B'Elanna as well. Then he turned to Tom.  
  
"Are you alright, Mr. Paris?"  
  
Tom rose and walked over to the others and Harry followed.  
  
"Just fine, Tuvok." Good, good. His tone was part belligerence, part playfulness. If Tom stretched his imagination, he could almost imagine that he really didn't give a shit that he'd managed to make Chakotay and B'Elanna hate him once again.  
  
If the Commander were bothered by his tone he didn't show it.  
  
"Will you be able to fly one of the shuttles out of here?" But then Tom grew closer, and Tuvok noticed his hands. He hesitated the briefest of moments and Tom would have rolled his eyes if he'd had the spirit. The last thing he needed now was sympathy from a Vulcan.  
  
"I suppose not," Tuvok said.  
  
"I'm a fair enough pilot," Chakotay told him, still stinging from the betrayal he now perceived was all around him. He realized, however, that lingering on that now wasn't going to help anyone.   
  
Tuvok nodded, but a voice behind him kept any of them from moving.  
  
"Too bad your skills won't be needed."  
  
As one, the four turned and saw Tuvok's security officers...and a Kazon holding a blaster rifle to the back of each of their heads.  
  
  
  
  
The Kazon guards shoved the officers forward to stand with the others, pointing their guns into the group.  
  
"Who is the leader of this group?" said the Kazon on the right, a man named Tanor, Tom recalled. "Come forward and show yourself."  
  
Noone moved, noone spoke. Then the Kazon on the left waved his rifle at them.  
  
"If you'd rather, we can just start shooting you one by one. If not, get the hell out here!"  
  
The seven Alpha Quadrant natives stood too far in the shadows for the guards to see clearly. Tuvok hesitated a moment longer...than prepared to step forward. A hand on his shoulder, however, stopped him.  
  
From the second he saw the Kazon standing there in the door of the cell, Tom felt something cold form in the pit of his stomach. Despite all his posturing, he really wasn't a bad guy. It wasn't that he didn't care - he'd just been left on his own to survive too much for too long to let down his defenses and act on his emotions. Now all Tom wanted was to do just that. He didn't have anything against Tuvok - from what he knew about the Commander he thought he was an admirable person, and he didn't know the other two officers, but he doubted they deserved to die in some Kazon hellhole. And Harry Kim...he was the only person Tom could truly call a friend in as long as he could remember - maybe his entire life. And Chakotay and B'Elanna meant something to Tom, too. The point was, he didn't want anyone to die - especially not in some damned rescue attempt that included saving his worthless ass. And so, the idea came to him and he'd acted upon it without even really thinking about it.  
  
In a few quick movements, Tom stopped Tuvok, grabbing his communicator and pinning it to his chest, and taking his phaser out of its holster.  
  
"Mr. Paris, what are you..."  
  
"I'm saving your ass, that's what I'm doing," Tom whispered. His tone didn't broach an argument. "Just be ready to rush those guys when you get a chance. If we let them get us out of the cell and into the light where they can keep an eye on us we're doomed."  
  
"Tom..." that was Harry, but Tom kept his eyes locked with Tuvok's. He held up one mangled hand.  
  
"It's not like I'm much good to the effort, anyhow. I can't pilot a shuttle. Hell, I can't even use this phaser." Tuvok didn't say anything. He had apparently weighed the pros and cons of Tom's suggestion and found it appropriate, though the look on his face said he didn't like it.  
  
The Kazon were getting antsy.  
  
"Well? Are you gonna come out of there or do we have to start shooting?"  
  
Tom began to step forward, but a hand stopped him. He was surprised to turn and see that it was B'Elanna's.  
  
"Why the hell are you doing this, Paris?" Her eyes were still dark with anger and distrust, but they were now confused, as well.  
  
Tom sighed. "Because I don't want anyone getting shot here because of me." It was hardly the time or place, but Tom just had to do it - he took B'Elanna's chin in his hand, thankful, at least, that she didn't flinch away.  
  
"I never lied to you, Maquis, except for not telling you my name. Everything you thought you knew about 'Starfleet' is true, even if his name is Tom Paris. I just didn't think you'd believe me if I told you the only reason I really agreed to help Janeway was to keep her from getting herself blown up in some damned plasma storm."  
  
There was a momentary flash of surprise in B'Elanna's eyes, but little trust followed in its wake. A muscle in Tom's jaw flinched. "I see I was right."  
  
"You led us on, Starfleet," Chakotay said, not even catching the fact that he'd continued to use the nickname they'd given Tom since they'd been placed in the cell. "You could have told us who you really were."  
  
Tom laughed cynically. "I'd just had the shit kicked out of me by five big Kazon with really big guns. Excuse me, if I didn't need any more enemies at the time."  
  
Noone said anything to that, and B'Elanna let Tom's words sink in, but Tom didn't notice. He turned away before he could see anymore animosity on her lovely face. Then he stepped forward before anyone could stop him.  
  
"Get out here now!" the guard, Tanor, was shouting just as Tom stepped forward. He moved only slightly out of the shadows and away from the others. This way, the Kazon couldn't quite make out his appearance and see that he was, in fact, one of their prisoners. They could, however, see the glint of light off of Tuvok's commbadge and phaser. They took this as the only evidence they needed that Tom was in charge.  
  
"Drop your weapon," the other Kazon, Kavin, commanded.   
  
Tom began easing away from the group, trying to get the guards to turn so that one of the others would have a better chance of advancing. Tanor had taken the phasers away from the security crewmen, but Harry still had his. All he had to do was distract the Kazon for a minute and give the kid a chance to use it.  
  
Tom clucked. "Uh-uh-uh," he said. "You don't really expect me to make it that easy for you, do you? You want my phaser?" He waved the weapon around a little. "You're going to have to come and get it." His voice became hard. Gods, he wished he could operate the damned buttons on this thing. What he'd give for a shot - just one shot - at those filthy creatures.  
  
'Real brave when a man's tied up and unconscious, aren't you?' Tom thought. 'Let's see how brave you are now.'  
  
Apparently, not very. Neither Kazon fired, they just continued to point their weapons at him, turning just slightly to keep up with his slow progress across the cell.  
  
"Stand still," Tanor ordered.  
  
"What?" Tom kept moving. 'Just a little more...'  
  
"I said stand still!"  
  
Tanor took a step towards Tom...and then Kavin turned in his direction to see what his companion was doing. Before he knew what had hit him, Tuvok came crashing into him. A few seconds and a Vulcan neck-pinch later, the man was unconscious.  
  
"What the..." Tanor whirled around, finger tightening on his rifle's trigger, but he never got the chance to fire. B'Elanna grabbed the phaser off of Harry's belt and fired, hitting the Kazon straight in the chest. He went down in a heap.   
  
For a moment, nobody said anything. Tuvok's officers went to Tanor and Kavin's sides, retrieving their phasers, and Chakotay hobbled over and grabbed a rifle. Harry, embarrassed that he hadn't acted quickly enough to use his own phaser, took the weapon away from B'Elanna, pretending not to be intimidated by the attractive Klingon woman's amused stare. Chakotay tossed her the other Kazon's rifle, and Tom threw the phaser back to Tuvok.  
  
"Well..." he said. "Now that that's taken care of...let's get to the shuttles and let Chakotay prove what a terrible pilot he is." Tom grinned.  
  
Chakotay snorted, but didn't comment, and the group filed out. Tuvok raised an eyebrow and shook his head, pretending not to notice as, one by one, Chakotay, B'Elanna, and Tom each paused to kick the Kazon on their way out of the cell.  
  
'Humans,' he lamented to himself.  
  
  
  
  
For the most part, their escape route was unimpeded. But then, at the juncture of the corridors leading to the Kazon's two shuttle bays, they were attacked. The hallway they had been heading down branched in two opposite directions, each leading to a shuttle bay; the hallway before them was suddenly filled with Kazon.  
  
One of the security officers was hit, and Harry and B'Elanna dragged him into the corridor to the left, where Tuvok and the other lieutenant also took cover. Chakotay and Tom, who had been at the rear of the group - Chakotay because of his injured leg, and Tom to cover them from behind, dove into the corridor on the right. Together, they were able to hold their own, but the Kazon were advancing and seemed to be multiplying every moment. Eventually, Tuvok sent Harry and B'Elanna with the injured crewmen towards the shuttle bay, then he turned to Tom.  
  
"Mr. Paris," he called across the corridor. "I am going to get the others to a shuttle. You and Captain Chakotay should proceed to the other shuttle bay. Get off the ship as soon as possible."  
  
Both Chakotay and Paris nodded.  
  
"Don't have to tell us twice, Tuvok."  
  
The Vulcan nodded, and he and the security lieutenant began to back away, with Tom and Chakotay following their lead. When they'd turned a corner, Tom and Chakotay turned and ran. Or tried to. When Paris noticed the difficulty Chakotay was having keeping up, he held back, throwing Chakotay's arm over his shoulder and hurrying him along.   
  
Chakotay objected, trying to shrug the younger man off. He didn't stop, however, when Paris resisted, and, finally, he gave up.  
  
"What's wrong, Chakotay? You'd rather hobble around here and die than let me be the one to help you?"  
  
"I don't need help, Paris," Chakotay ground out, and Tom rolled his eyes.   
  
"Yeah, sure. That's why you're gritting your teeth in pain and look ready to pass out."  
  
"Who says I'm not just sick of being next to you?"  
  
Tom didn't say anything, but the corridor before them stretched out seemingly forever. It was slow going with a man of Chakotay's side leaning more and more heavily upon him with each passing moment. He tried to lighten the mood.  
  
"Don't you have any ancient tribal healing powers you can use right now? They'd certainly come in handy - what do you weigh? A ton?"  
  
Chakotay grunted. It was almost a laugh. "Sorry to disappoint you, Paris, but no. And noone said you had to play the hero here, just let me loose."  
  
Tom laughed and rolled his eyes again. "You'd fall flat on your face. Besides, isn't there some ancient custom that says if I save you your life belongs to me?"  
  
"Wrong tribe."  
  
"Liar."  
  
They reached the entrance to the shuttle bay, and Tom stepped back, allowing Chakotay to key the doors open. He glanced at his hands once more, in remorse, then brushed those thoughts away.   
  
The doors parted, and Tom was at Chakotay's side again. Now it was the Maquis' turn to roll his eyes.  
  
"You're just playing a crutch, Paris. It's not like you've donated a lung to me, or something. Hardly worthy of a life debt."  
  
Tom shrugged. And then a bad situation turned worse.  
  
There were Kazon all over the shuttle bay.  
  
As soon as they were through the doors, the Kazon opened fire on Tom and Chakotay, who ducked behind a large stack of crates of some kind for cover. Unfortunately, it seemed that a Kazon had decided to hide there, as well. The man raised his rifle, pointed it at Chakotay. Chakotay tensed, saw the Kazon's finger tighten on the rifle's trigger, had one second's thought that this was it, he was going to die, and then the Kazon fired...and Tom jumped in front of the blast.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chakotay blinked. Everything happened too fast, but one moment the Kazon was firing and the next Chakotay was realizing that he wasn't dead. Just in time, he pulled himself out of it, leveling his own rifle and blasting a hole through the center of the Kazon's chest. The man was dead.  
  
Then Chakotay turned to Tom.  
  
"Spirits!...Shit! What the hell..."  
  
Chakotay turned Paris over from where he had rolled onto his chest, seeing that he was still alive, but that a good-sized hole was gaping in his side, bleeding profusely. Around them, Kazon rifle-fire echoed, but Chakotay put down his weapon to tug off his shirt and press it over Tom's wound, applying pressure to try and stop the bleeding.  
  
"Damn it, Starfleet! What the hell were you thinking? Spirits, you're going to bleed to death!"  
  
The younger man was already starting to shake - whether from the loss of blood or shock, or maybe both, Chakotay didn't know. He swore softly, and Tom laughed.  
  
"As always, Chakotay, you are an unending source of encouragement and cheer."  
  
Chakotay cussed again. "How the hell can you make jokes at a time like this?"  
  
Tom didn't respond, but then a particularly well-aimed shot hit one of the crates above them, and splinters of the container's exterior showered over them. Tom hissed as the shower caused him to flinch, the movement sending a lance of pain racing through his injured side.   
  
"You won't get the chance to hear anymore," he said, "If you don't start shooting back."  
  
Chakotay silently agreed. He grabbed the rifle and took the defensive. There weren't as many Kazon as he'd at first feared, but still, there were enough, and they were at considerably better angles for carrying on a conflict than Chakotay was. He managed to pick a couple of the Kazon off, but soon it was apparent that he wouldn't be gaining much ground. He turned back to Paris.  
  
"Do you think you can move?"  
  
"Oh, sure, no problem. I could race the hundred-yard-dash. Never been better, thank you very much..."  
  
"Paris! Can you move or not?"  
  
Chakotay took an irritated tone at Tom's whining, but he truly didn't know if the man would be able to move or not. He looked pretty bad.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I can move," Tom said, however. He was gritting his teeth against the pain of doing so, but he moved.  
  
Chakotay gestured, then headed to the edge of the stack of crates; Tom followed.  
  
"If we can move to the other side - behind those crates over there, we'll be closer to that shuttle, see it?"  
  
Tom nodded.  
  
"You run, I'll cover you." Tom laughed. He had a hole the size of a data chip in his side, and Chakotay had a broken leg and they were going to race across the shuttle bay while the Kazon took pot shots at them. He didn't object, though. What else were they going to do?  
  
"I said go!" Chakotay yelled, and Tom did, running, then almost crawling, across the shuttle bay as fast as he could, not stopping or looking at anything but his destination. Chakotay followed, covering him as he said he would. Somehow, they made it to the other side okay, though a couple of shots had grazed Chakotay's arms and legs.  
  
"Not real good with guns, are they?" Tom drolled, but his glib was somewhat ineffectual as he was now gasping for breath and shaking like a starship at Warp 9.999.  
  
Chakotay wasn't listening. He was cussing again under his breath.  
  
"Of all the ignorant, idiotic, damned foolish..."  
  
He glanced back at his companion to see Paris' blue eyes burning into him, the humor having left them. He turned away, torn between loathing for the man he'd known as Tom Paris; for the man who would gladly have turned him over to Starfleet for a chance at his own freedom, and worry for the man he'd befriended in that Kazon cell.   
  
It was as if Tom sensed his line of thought.  
  
"Tell me, Chakotay, what bothers you more? The fact that Tom Paris might die to save your sanctimonious hide? Or the fact that back there - before you knew who I was - you thought that maybe, just maybe, I wasn't the bastard you like to think I am?"  
  
Chakotay frowned, his eyes on the Kazon. He fired, taking down another two of their attackers.  
  
"Shut up, Paris."  
  
"No, really, tell me. What would be worse? Owing you life to a man you hate? Or realizing that maybe you don't hate me that badly after all? What would..." And then Tom stopped, as a fit of coughing seized his body. Chakotay went to his side, but Tom shrugged him off. Chakotay swore hotly.  
  
"Don't fuck with me, Paris. For all I know, all that shit you said in the cell was just some twisted game you liked playing to pass the time - lull the poor, gullible Maquis into a false sense of security."  
  
"Yeah, that's how I wanted to spend the last days of my life - pouring my heart out to a bunch of self-righteous vigilantes; making up bullshit stories about how fucked up my life is. Yeah, it was all just a game - my life's just rosy, really." Tom's voice dripped sarcasm.  
  
He coughed again, and a spattering of shots hit the wall above their heads. Chakotay got back into position and fired back. He thought about what Paris was saying, and then shoved the thoughts aside. Damn it, but he had a point. Why couldn't they have this conversation when there weren't Kazon all over the place?  
  
"We're going to have to make a run for the shuttle. Do you think you're up to it?"  
  
"You're better off just going without me," Tom said.  
  
Chakotay sighed. "Damn it, Starfleet. Stop being so melodramatic. I don't hate you, okay? So cut it..." But then something in the way Tom spoke stopped him, and Chakotay turned.  
  
"Shit!"  
  
Tom had gone utterly pale; so pale it scared him. He was looking down at the back of his hands...blood. He'd coughed up blood.  
  
Chakotay felt a tinge of panic. "We've got to get you on the shuttle."  
  
Tom was shaking his head.  
  
"Do you hear me, Paris? We've got to get you on the shuttle. How..."  
  
"No!" Tom was grabbing his phaser, trying to program it to a higher setting. "I told you, Chakotay, you're better off going without me. Get to the shuttle and get out. I'll hold 'em off as long as I can."  
  
Chakotay was incredulous. "That's crazy. You said yourself - you can't fly a shuttle like this. You can barely work that phaser."  
  
"I'm not going, Chakotay, so get the hell out of-"  
  
"-won't you listen to common sense-"  
  
"-argue with me-"  
  
Tom suddenly sighed. "Listen, Chakotay. Tribal custom takes precedence hear. Your life is mine - I decide whether you get to waste it here or not."  
  
The two men argued, then suddenly something caught Chakotay's eyes. Tom quieted, as well, when he followed Chakotay's line of vision.  
  
Chakotay smiled.  
  
  
  
  
Sometime later, they were aboard a Kazon shuttle, blasting out the shuttle bay's doors. Chakotay looked over at the man lying unconscious on the cargo-mover in the shuttle's hold, then he requested an emergency beam to Voyager's sickbay and flew the shuttle out of danger.  
  
  
  
  
Lost in the surrealistic world of dreams and nightmares, Tom struggled with an army of attackers, and struck out...hitting air.  
  
Or not air, really. He would have hit the doctor...if he wasn't a hologram.   
  
The Doctor let out a long-suffering sigh, and tossed his medical tricorder to the ensign at his side.   
  
"He's perfectly fine," the Doctor announced, then threw a disdainful glance at his waking patient. "Physically," he added, then walked away, muttering about the woes of being an EMH.  
  
Tom came to, blinking at the Sickbay lights overhead. He saw Harry at his bedside and sat up, smiling.  
  
"Hey, Har. So it's Ensign Kim to the rescue yet again, is it?"  
  
Then he saw the woman at Harry's side...and his smile disappeared.  
  
"Torres."  
  
B'Elanna raised a brow.  
  
"Starfleet," she responded.  
  
The air between them was uncomfortable, and Harry shifted nervously. Then B'Elanna smiled.  
  
"Just wanted to make sure you made it. Make there with the Kazon, you seemed to be implying that I'd judged you unfairly."  
  
Tom stared at her. Slowly, he began to smile.  
  
"Maybe."  
  
"I'd hate to loose the chance of having you prove yourself wrong."  
  
She grinned and strode out of sickbay. Tom watched her go, and shook his head.   
  
'Not on your life, Torres,' he thought.  
  
  
  
  
Sometime later, Tom was standing in the Captain's readyroom, facing Janeway as she sat behind her desk.  
  
"The nature of the ship's present location creates a unique situation for yourself. Just what am I going to do with you, Mr. Paris?"  
  
Tom's emotional defenses were up again, his face a mask of calm lack of concern. But something about Janeway's posture was non-provocative, unthreatening, and so he allowed himself to relax, just slightly.  
  
"Are you going to keep me in the brig for the next seventy-five years, Captain?" he asked, and Janeway smiled, rising.  
  
"Hardly. Mr. Tuvok and his team informed me of your actions aboard the Kazon ship. I hardly think such a gesture merits confinement, do you?"  
  
Tom shrugged, but he felt a suspicious warmth fill his cheeks. 'Damn it, Tom, don't blush!'  
  
Janeway's smile widened, then she tamed her expression into neutrality. "However, it has come to my attention that you have several enemies among this crew. That could make things difficult for you, being an observer aboard this ship."  
  
Tom shifted. Yeah, difficult was one way of putting it. He didn't suppose he'd last long out there, un-chaperoned, but he put another smile on his face, crossing his arms.  
  
"Are you going to assign me a bodyguard, Captain?"  
  
"It seems that you already have one." Tom raised an eyebrow, curious. "Mr. Chakotay said something about...his life belonging to you?" She shot him a look that just begged for answers to that one, but Tom didn't supply them.   
  
"Really?" His smile could only be described as evil. Tom rubbed his hands together. "I think I'm going to enjoy this."  
  
"Don't be so sure. He's also going to be your first officer. Mr. Tuvok has stepped down so that the Maquis will see that they have a representative in the command structure of this ship. Every officer aboard will answer to him..." Janeway straightened her shoulders, truly enjoying this. "...including the lieutenant assigned to conn," she finished.  
  
Tom stood there a full minute before realization dawned, and Janeway grinned.  
  
"Me?" he asked, obviously thrown off-guard.  
  
Janeway walked over to him, patting him on the shoulder. "I've entered into the record that on this date I have granted the field commission of lieutenant to Thomas Eugene Paris." She smiled as she attached the pips to his collar, laughing when a simple handshake lengthened and Tom, shocked, was reluctant to let go of her hand.  
  
"For once in my life...I don't know what to say."  
  
Janeway laughed again. "Congratulations, Tom. You've earned it."  
  
She headed towards the exit to the bridge, and Tom followed.  
  
"I only wish your father could know."  
  
Tom smiled.  
  
"Oh, he'll know...when we get back."  
  
Tom followed his captain onto the bridge. He was an officer again, part of a crew, and he was going to be able to fly their sleek, little ship. Tom sat down at the conn, the feel of the controls underneath his fully healed fingers sending a chill through him, it felt that right. He looked over his shoulders at the crew around him as Janeway made her speech. There were more friendly faces among them than he would have once believed.  
  
Janeway talked about getting her crew back home, and Tom believed her, word for word. In the last month, he'd become a lieutenant again, he was flying again, and he had friends. If that were possible...getting back to the Alpha Quadrant would be a piece of cake.  
  
"Mr. Paris," Janeway ordered. "Set a course...for home."  



End file.
